


victim of changing planets

by advantagetexas



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, after the best end, also sumo is there because i love that dog, nobody in this house knows how to deal with emotions and only one of them has an excuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 03:52:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15186173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/advantagetexas/pseuds/advantagetexas
Summary: “How do you know when you’re in love, Hank?”“What do you mean by that?”“It’s a simple question,” Connor replied, keeping his voice completely clear of intonation that would give up a motive. What a bastard.Or: you can give an android (and an emotionally volatile police detective) feelings, but you can't make them express them





	victim of changing planets

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from a song called "scorpio rising" by soccer mommy and a) is a very good relevant song and b) is super relevant because Hank is actually a goddamn scorpio rising. that's why he's Like That, his rising sign is scorpio. it all makes sense now

It was remarkable, really, how much the house of one Hank Anderson had changed in the last three months. Connor looked across the lawn as he walked to the front door, unsurprised to see the grass neatly manicured, the siding freshly painted. As he approached the front door, Sumo came bounding around the side of the house, nearly knocking him over in an attempt to be petted quicker. Connor knelt down and gave him a few scratches behind the ears and the dog wagged his tail happily.

“You’re quite a good boy, Sumo,” Connor said quietly, humoring himself in talking to the large pup when he knew he would get no reply. He let Sumo run ahead of him as he made his way to the door, tilting his head in confusion at the new lock. The antique key lock was gone, replaced with a fingerprint scanner that glowed a bright blue, the same one he had been suggesting that Hank get for months now. He just hadn’t expected him to do so while he was out of the house. Connor tested the scanner, pressing his thumb to the pad.

“Unrecognized fingerprint, please try again,” the soothing voice of the scanner called out. Connor tried again, only to have the blue light change to red as it failed once again to read his nonexistent fingerprints.

“Unrecognized fingerprint, please verbally authenticate.” Connor raised an eyebrow at that, tilting his head in confusion.

“Lieutenant Hank Anderson,” he spoke, using his verbal components to perfectly replicate Hank’s own voice. The scanner “thought” for a second, and then flashed a bright green.

“Welcome home,” the system pauses for a second and then continues “Connor,” in Hank’s unamused voice. Connor can’t help but chuckle at the thought that Hank knew him well enough to anticipate his exact attempt to fool the scanner. He opened the door, letting Sumo bound in with him. The inside of the house was just as immaculate as the outside, everything neatly in its place, the fold out that Connor sometimes “slept” on folded up back into the soft couch that Sumo had now draped himself over.

Of course, the lack of mess was Connor’s doing. Hank may not be bothered by clutter, but something about living in a messy home just drove Connor up a wall. He hung his bag on the coat rack, making a mental note to go over the files inside with Hank at a later date. Speaking of Hank, despite the improved lock on the front door, he was nowhere to be found. Just as Connor was beginning to get worried, he heard a hilariously loud snore come from the detective’s bedroom.

He walked into the room to see Hank bundled up under the comforter, snoring away. He had an almost peaceful look on his face, his ever-present scowl softened by the bliss of sleep.

“Lieutenant,” he said softly, giving Hank a gentle push as he sat on the side of the bed. Hank just turned away, actively trying to ignore him.

“Lieutenant, it’s 2:37 in the afternoon, this is no time to be sleeping,” Connor tried again, still eliciting nothing from Hank besides another thick snore. An obviously fake, obnoxiously loud, snore.

“Hank, I threw out your alcohol stash.” This one elicits a real response, but not the one that Connor had expected.

“Very funny Connor, but I already did that earlier,” Hank scoffed, pulling the blanket further up onto his shoulder. Connor frowned, reassessing his memory, scanning back to indeed see a few empty liquor bottles in the garbage can of the house as he got out of his driverless taxi.

“I…I don’t understand,” Connor replied, processor cycling through the possible reasons and coming up blank for any that made enough sense to be plausible.

“Got tired of you makin’ that face whenever you saw me drink,” Hank said simply, turning to look at the very confused android sitting on the edge of his bed. “Figured it’d be better for both of us if I quit. I get to live longer and that pretty face of yours won’t get stuck looking like you took a trip to the Hudson River.” Hank sits up, seeming very proud of himself for that joke, only to be utterly and truly surprised when Connor lunges forward, wrapping him in a tight hug, the android’s arms wrapped around his neck. He hesitates for a second, then returns it, rubbing Connor’s shoulder awkwardly as he holds him close. When Connor finally pulls back, Hank can see the LED indicator on his temple glowing a brilliant yellow. More surprising than that, though, are the two symmetrical tear tracks marring Connor’s perfect skin.

“Are you…are you crying?” Hank asks, suddenly slightly uncomfortable. Connor seems just as confused as he is, reaching a hand up to his face and wiping the tracks away, staring at the residue on his hand in wonder.

“I seem to be overcome with happiness, Lieutenant,” Connor says with a sheepish smile.

“About what, me throwing out my booze?”

“Not entirely, it’s…it’s hard to explain,” Connor non-answers, suddenly becoming closed off and slightly standoffish. The rapid change in emotion throws Hank for a loop. “It’s just nice to know that you care about my feelings, Hank. Even in such a small way.”

“Connor of course I care about your feelings,” Hank replied, slightly hurt that Connor had thought even slightly to the contrary. “I started cleaning the outside of my house because I knew it bothered you. I uncovered most of the mirrors in the house because I knew you liked looking in them. I mean, Jesus, I even put in that stupid electronic lock because I knew you would be up all night keeping a goddamn watch all the time because you felt unsafe.”

Connor seemed blown away for a second, the shock clear on his face before he replied, “How did you know about that?”

“You’re not as sneaky as you think, Connor. More than once I’ve gotten up to get something from the fridge and caught you sitting in front of the door like a Rottweiler.” Hank sighed, rubbing the side of his jaw in frustration. “It bothered me because I wanted you to feel safe here, and I failed at that.”

“So you put in an electronic lock,” Connor said as a non-question. More a statement of fact than anything.

“Yes.”

“Because you wanted me to feel safe.”

“Jesus, Connor, how hard is this to understand?” Hank hisses, annoyed that he’s having to spill so much of his inner thoughts to get his point across. “I want you to feel safe here. I want you to feel _at home_ here.” Connor just sat there, silently processing everything that’d been said as Hank impatiently waited for him to say something, anything. When he finally spoke, it was completely beyond the realm of anything Hank had been expecting.

“How do you know when you’re in love, Hank?” Connor asked, looking at him with those big ol’ sparkling eyes of his.

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s a simple question, Lieutenant,” Connor replied, keeping his voice completely clear of intonation that would give up a motive. What a bastard.  

“It’s…You’ll know when your heart speeds up when you’re around that person, when they make you want to be better than you are, when they make you…when you feel at home with them.” It’s a pretty shit explanation, but Hank thinks it’s good enough to answer the question, especially since Connor sprung it on him out of the blue. The android thinks for a second, then looks up, the LED on his temple flashing blue and yellow like a heartbeat.

“Your heart rate is 110 bpm,” Connor says this fact, like an accusation, looking at Hank like a math problem to be solved.

“I’m old and out of shape, what do you want from me?” Hank tries to explain it away, but Connor persists.

“And would giving up alcohol not be considered “trying to be a better person”?”

“Just spit out whatever you’re trying to accuse me of, Connor, I ain’t got all day.” Connor shakes his head, instead choosing to gently take Hank’s hand in his own, resting it over the thirium pump embedded under his skin. The edges of his jacket brush Hank’s fingertips as he feels Connor’s “heart” beating like mad, faster than what should really be healthy. Hank looks up just in time for Connor to lean forward again, this time reaching a hand up to caress his face, bringing their foreheads close together, but then hesitating just a bit.

“Stop me if I’m wrong,” Connor said, a hint of fear evident in his usually clear voice. It broke Hank’s heart to know that there was even a shred of doubt in his mind.

A million thoughts race through Hank’s mind in that moment, before all converging into one singular process: fuck it. Hank closes the gap, pressing his lips to Connor’s softly, hearing the android almost squeak in surprise before reciprocating. Hank tries to block the amount of times he’s seen Connor put anything and everything in his mouth out of his mind as he continues, pulling him closer and putting a hand on the side of his face, cradling his jaw. He must do something wrong though, because Connor pulls away, looking at him with a slight smirk on his face.

“What?”

“You were remembering the crime scenes, weren’t you?” Connor asks, smugger than any human, alive or dead, will ever and has ever managed to be.

“You’re an absolutely insufferable prick,” Hank says with a sigh, pushing Connor away gently to get up and go make himself a cup of coffee.

“I love you too, Hank,” Connor says with a chuckle, following him out of the room with Sumo at his heels.

**Author's Note:**

> to expand on hank's astrological chart, his sun sign is goddamn virgo and now i want to take one of those compilations of jenna marbles screaming "im a virgo!" any time her bf does anything aries-like and superimpose hank's face in it because lets all be real, Connor? he's an aries. idc if he doesnt have a birthday, no one can act like that and not be an aries


End file.
